


A very long week

by yunayoyoe



Category: cryaotic
Genre: Angst, Gen, Loneliness, Madness, Narcissistic Personality Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunayoyoe/pseuds/yunayoyoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This guy couldn't take it anymore. He was tired and clearly needed a break to sort things out in his mind. He needed to just get away for one week and then he would come back to his normal happy self.<br/>But right now, he was tired. So very tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The start of a long week [intro]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi people! this is my story: A very long week  
> This is a story involving the famous Youtuber Cryaotic and how he slowly goes into madness after expousure to the extreme pressure of being mildly famous.
> 
> As seen in the tags, my idea was to describe him with a narcissistic personality dissorder, however, I do in no way think of Cry as a Narcissistic person, so this is most definately a spin on his otherwise gentle persona.
> 
> There will be some gramatical errors in this story. I apologize for that in advance, english is in fact not my primary language, but acctually the third that I learnt, although that is no excuse, please bear with it :]

 

Inside a silent room, there was a man sitting on a oversized office chair reading on his computer. The scenario was silent save for the occasional giggles that would seemingly burst randomly out of the man. The demeanor of this fellow would seem quite puzzling to most, in fact I also found myself curious as to what he was reading.   
On closer inspection, one would notice that this man was reading fanfictions. Stories about him, in some sort of outrageous scenario. The fantasy was limitless, but some themes were often re-used, but the fact remains that those were all incredibly silly stories. Alas, they were funny in that respect, and they obviously kept the man entertained. 

However, the man also read fanletters. Now, that was something he _had_ to do. Most often, they were pleasing to read, they contained many compliments, especially about his voice. Often those compliments were from his female audience, and some had even ventured as far as to send a picture of their breasts, asking for a picture of his face in return. 

Yes, the man had never once revealed his face to his fans, and he wished to preserve it as a secret. I, however, had the great pleasure of acctually seeing his face and being in his presences on several occasions. 

The man did enjoy getting compliments, I mean, who wouldn't? But the letters didn't always carry such sweet words. Recently, many  _complaint_ letters had been sent to him. He had never once sent a reply to a complaintment letter, preffering to simply ignore them.

Most would do that in a situation such as this one, no?

But in reality he couldn’t handle all the criticism he was getting. It was becoming too much. Couldn’t people see that all he was trying to do was entertain them? Lift up their spirits after a long day? 

He was a nice person, truly. All he ever wanted to do was make people happy, but in the process, he made many angry or sad. He couldn’t handle knowing that he wasn’t good enough for some people. The feeling of not being satisfactory to some, and outright making them dislike him for this, was painful. Too painful. 

So he was thinking to himself. Should I just quit this? To end this once and for all, wouldn’t that be much easier?

It probably would make things a lot easier… Which is exactly why that thought was so appealing. Trust me, he did think it over, however, the more he thought about it, the more wrong it seemed.  
It was an undeniable fact that the fans would miss him. So in the end, it all lead to dissapointment, there was no getting out of it unscathed. In one way or another, whatever he did, would always lead to someone getting displeased. That thought was entirely too depressing, so he hid it away. The very fact that he wasn't good enough to please them all was physically painfull on him.

The solution to his dilemma seemed impossible to find. The only way to evade things, were to dissapear completely.

Then he all too suddenlly he snapped his fingers, and although the idea was in his head, it took a second before he officially annouced it inside his mind.   
"I'll just take a short break from all this, the fans will understand. Then I'll have sorted out my thoughts and everything will be just _dandy_."

What thoughts exactly? And how would taking a break help him?   
Those were question he didn't allow to surface within his consiousness. Those were meaningless thoughts, and he wouldn't be able to answer them anyway. 

The real question was: where would he go?  
It wasn't like he had the money to just go out and buy the next plane ticket to Hawaii. But he just had this feeling that he had to get away.  
He certainly couldn't stay at home, everyday he stayed inside his home. For some reason, he couldn't think clearly here. It was like an invisable mist had covered his mind from anything that wasn't necessary. Finally this mist was starting to choke him, and so, he needed a change of pace.

Please note that; that which I am telling you is in fact not thoughts of his own, but merely those thoughts that never reached him. But I for a fact know of every thoughts of his, even the ones he did not. That is why the man never acctually thought of the sitaution as I have just described. This man only felt... unwell. It was just a feeling, he didn't acctually know what it meant. Only his instincts told him to get away.


	2. Letting go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments makes the world a better place :]

He did not want to interact with people for just a week. One week. That was all he demanded, it was not his job to please people. He was a grown man; he could do whatever he fancied. Well, that was at least what he told himself when dropping of his canine friend at his mother’s house.

She, of course, asked where he was going.  
He, of course, lied.

He felt that she needn't know that he was in a depressive state of mind; she would only try to help.   
But he did not want help. Help was for the helpless. He was not helpless; he just needed to be alone.  
He didn’t want anyone to know why he was going away. He felt embarrassed for acting the way he did due to the criticism from his fans. He felt weak.

After the tea and the smiles and hugs, the man was eventually allowed to leave the house. Whilst in the house, he had miracously enough, felt some minor comfort in being in the presence of his mother and forever smiling labrador. But as soon as he waved goodbye from the cold seat of the car and turned his face away from his childhood home; it was as everything just melted away. Leaving him in a completly trance-like state. The only thing on his mind being the final destination on his dirt cheap GPS. 

His destination being a close by motel.

The memories from after his departure with his mother were blank. But now he had come back to his senses. Whilst walking up the dirty red velvet stairs he felt slightly put of. He didn't know where his room was, he searched for the location in his mind, but it was nowhere to be found. And yet his feet keept going, one in front of the other. He clenched the olive colored shoulderbag with the hand that moments before was hangning limply by the side of his body. An obvious act of nervousness, or even fear. Yes, it was obvious, but he had done it. He didn't particularly feel that does feelings were present right now.

Then, the sight of his two feet stading motionless infront of, what he could only presume was a door, made all thoughts prior to the the present one disappear completely. He looked up, the numebers 204 were distinctvely branded into the wooden door. Curious, most rooms nowadays would have golden metal numbers screwed onto the door, but the number of this door had once been  _burnt_ into the door. 

As he touched the door knob he audiably gullped, slightly painfully so. 

He didn't know what he was expecting when he opened the door. Most would probably have been curious as to how the interior of the room would have looked, and honestly he thought that was what he was scared of aswell. But sometimes, we really do surprise ourselves, and the action and feelings that led to opening a rundown motels room door was certainly what the man would refer to as surprising.

He inhaled the smell of dust and cheap air freshener before smiling, oddly painfully and then proceeding to bursting into tears. Yes, he was surprised, but the man still had his pride. So instead of crying by the door he entered the room and closed the door behind him, not even bothering to turning on the light. His back was against the door and his face was in his hands. And the man cried, like some dirty kid with snot running down his nose. He cried like he only had done as a child.  
Yeah, he did cry a considerable amount at sad games or movies such as marley & me. But it didn't come close to this level of crying. It was... intense.

And it felt so natural, like he wasn't doing the actual movement himself, when he pulled out his iPod from his bag and went to that specific artist he hadn't listen to in a long, long time. In the midst of his uncontrolable sobbing he smiled slightly at how much the first song was comforting in a way that wasn't comforting at all. And although he was hurting (because let me tell you, it hurts like a bitch when you cry for real), he sang along. Let me be honest and say that it wasn't anything like hearing a weeping angel sing a melancholic song. No, he didn't know the lyrics perfectly, so although the song was infact a love song, he felt that it was written specifically for him , for exactly this moment. Murmering with a voice thick with sadness  _"if I didn't care...more than words can say...If-.. If I didn't care... would I feel this way?" ._

Maybe he was uncounsioulsy avoiding the parts where the singer would metion love, and only singing "if I didn't care." Who knows, but he was indeed a pityful sight. Once the song was over he lost control once more and was left a sobbing mess in the darkness of a room alien to him. 

Somehow, he couldn't really understand why he was crying. Ýet, something inside of him was telling him exactly why, but he refused to acknowledge this pestering thought and it's suggestion. So he took on the role of the unknowing. 'It was strange and he didn't know why it was happening'. That seemed like the best excuse he could give himself. 

After a considerable amount of time being used with crying in the dark, he felt oddly numb, yet the tears continued to flow.

You could call it instinct, and you could call it 'by chance', but for some reason when the man had emptied his face from salty liquids he chose to look up from his hands directly at what was infront of him.   
It was staring at him.  
He was staring right back.  
The white wall directly infront of him seemed to have it's own glow, and as such, the man was placed in a trance-like state where he crawled towards said wall.   
The prefectly rectangular wall, that had no sort of decoration or furniture leaning against it, was practically pulling him in.   
Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel weird to casually sit down infront of it, with hands wrapped around his knees and simply admiring the wall. Not to him a least.  
If you had been in the room with him at that particular moment, I'm sure you would have thought the same as me.  
That what he was looking at was the most beautifull painting in the world, and only you and I couldn't see it.

When the last song played it's final tune, he pulled out his earphones and placed them on the ground next to him. Getting up from the ground he went to his bed. When his body hit the soft bed he felt like a great big rock sinking into the deep. And a smile was planted on his face as he fell asleep. A smile so queer, that one might think he knew the answer to everything everyone had ever questioned. 

And like that, he dissaperead into his sheets. Gone from all eyes, even his own.

Truly, I was indeed perplexed over the mans behaviour. Nevertheless, I did not question his actions.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original version of this story he was listening to the album Kid A by Radiohead, and the song would have been "everything in its right place".  
> Buuuut, I changed it. In this edited version he is listening to The Ink Spots, and the song would have been "If I didn't care".  
> Why did I change it you say? Well, probably because I myself had cried horrifically to "everything in its right place". Infact, most of the things in this story were from personal expiriences. And I suddenly felt that I shouldn't have done that. It felt that I was just trying to indirectly get my feelings out on the net, and that's not what I really wanna do y'know.  
> I wouldn't want to drown you in my personal sorrows. Therefore I changed some things in the story that were from personal experience.


	3. Faceless dreams

“Who dares interrupt my slumber?!” was the very first thing the man said when his sleep was interupted. But due to some intense crying the other night, his voice came out thick and horse, boarding on the barely non-understandable. However, inwardly, the man thought of that as a cool little special effect.

He was answered by opening his eyes to a blindingly white sunray in his face. Squinting his eyes, he made a discontent sound and pulled the red colored curtains to block the light. He then proceeded to bury his face in the stiff pillow. He frowned; last night the pillow, and the bed as a whole, had seemed so incredibly soft.

Although the bed and pillowed had ceased to be comfortable, he was set on going to sleep again. So he tried burying his head deeper in the pillow, but to his disappointment, he could not. Therefore, after about 10 minutes of trying to fall asleep (without any success, might I add), he succumb to his body will, and got up from the bed.

When he got up he was washed over with a bad feeling. A wave of depressive thoughts washed over him, It felt like he had not accomplished anything in his life. Man, he really needed some admiration. He was feeling like an absolute failure in life. He needed to know that somebody appreciated him. Easiest access to earnest compliments were definately stashed on his computer. Therefore, he pulled out his computer and turned it on. While it was loading, he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  
He had forgotten his toothpaste at home.

Great.

Well, a toothbrush is better than nothing, right? So he washed it and proceeded to brush his teeth.

The familiar welcoming sound of windows was a pleasant noise. It politely asked him to enter his password, and so he did.

He thought about telling his fans that he would be taking a short break.  
But, they would never understand why. So he just told them that he was on vacation, nothing more.

You see, _nobody_ could ever understand his feelings, often; they confused him as well. So how could _they_ possibly understand?

Nobody was quite like him. He knew this very well. Nevertheless, that’s why they loved him, and he found a number of examples to prove that point on his computer, but then again, he knew he would find this. People had always loved him for his unique personality and voice.

That made him smirk. He was very pleased to hear himself say that. It felt right and it felt true.  
And It was true. Few people denied it.

~

“Good morning Sir!” The man behind the counter cried out when he saw him going rapidly down the old red carpet stairs.

Instead of answering him audibly, he only gave a slight wave, acknowledging the man’s existence.

He wanted to go somewhere. Maybe buy some toothpaste.  
But as he opened the door, the air felt disgusting. It felt as if it was trying to choke him and the sun trying to melt his skin away. But he had his best poker face on and just looked around for a brief moment before turning around and walking in again.

“Forgot something?” The man said smiling. Wow, he really wanted to punch that stupid smile right of his face for that comment. Which was strange, he knew that man was only trying to be polite. Still, he clenched his fist. But the receptionist obviously didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he wasn't feeling threathed in the slightest. To emphise his preadatorian behaviour, the man slowly walked by him to observe his face more closely. He knew that he was being intimidating, especially with those icy blue eyes of his.  
He liked that, it was another form of violence, not as satisfying, but still... it was as close as it got without getting him kicked out.

The receptionist face was not one that you would want to closely inspect. His forehead was shining with sweat, and small spots on his shirt were darkened, obviously from his bodily fluids. Black and a few grey nose hairs were sticking out and he had a great big bush of black hair, infused with the occasional grey hairs, on his jaw. It almost covered his big dumb smile. His skin was fairly tanned, he probably had a Latin background, Mexican, maybe? The man never looked him in the eyes.

What an ass, “Forgot something?” he was deeply annoyed by the question. But he tried to stop thinking about the idiot when he was approaching his room. When he opened the door, the white wall from yesterday greeted him. He gave a short nod and a low “sup?” towards it and sat down by his computer.

After a day of mindlessly surfing on the net, the sun was slowly but steadily fading away. The man had accomplished nothing the whole day. He felt particulalry miserable whilst watching a adult movie. He thought back to his previous relationships. The girls had been fond of him to be sure, but none of them seemed interesting enough for him. He could understand their affection for him, but it was practically impossible to find a perfect match for him. The sex had been good, but somehow, it felt better when he did it himself. 

This train of thought was headed somewhere he didn't like. And so, he pulled out his iPod and it's earphones and closed the laptop.

It was 23:21 PM, he was sitting in front of a white wall listening to Gorillaz inside room 204 in a motel called the Lovers, “it was a chilly night with a high probability of rain”. Or so, the way too loud TV from room 203 had informed him earlier on.  
Right now, the residents of room 205 were having sex.

Very loud and interesting sex.

Hey, hey. What's that look for? Don't misunderstand, the man wasn't a creeper, he just found interest in what people liked during the ‘magical’ act of sex. Their preferences varied so much, it was interesting to see or hear what the commonfolk prefered. To tell you the truth, most of the time he was laughing and at how ridiculous they both sounded.  
When they reached their climax he heard a male voice go: “come to daddy!” followed by unintellegent moans and a quicker beating on the wall, in response a female voice went: "Oh yeah!" 

Wow.

Just. Wow.

Did people like that even exist?

He pressed his forehead against the deliciously cold wall. Let out one hell of a dramatic sigh and said.  
“Tell me, why is this world so pathetic?” He would ask the wall. 

Later that night he was jerking off in the shower. He tried to imagine a beautiful girl, but nothing would appear in his mind. He was getting annoyed and the masturbation was turning out to be a painful one.

He sighed and ‘blew’ the thought/image away.  
He stopped trying to pleasure himself and instead showered himself in scalding hot water. He took his toothbrush, which he had cleverly brought with him into the shower, and sat down butt naked under the hot shower brushing his teeth. The only problem was the missing toothpaste, he never got around to getting that. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't eaten at all today, that very thought made all his energy ooze out of him along with the water. 

He felt so tired. Staying underneath the shower was proving to be extremely relaxing, and so he doozed of right beneath it. 

His dream was filled with water, not water as a physical thing, but more like the feeling of being wrapped in a blanket of warm water. In his dream he was merely floating in a seemingly dark but comfortable obivion. But a soft hand was suddenly touching his hand and as it closed around his, gravity seemed to pull him down and the floor became visable. As the hand pulled him forward the blanket of water slowly left his body, leaving his skin wrinkly and ugly to behold. Suddenly he noticed the owner of his guiders hands face, but she was one without a face. The girl let go of his hand and lept happily onto the bed, giving of a feeling that she would be smiling, had she had the face to show such an expression. The man followed her onto the bed, and there he layed, just staring at her white face and she at his.

When he woke up, he found himself naked on his bed and the bed sheets slightly wet. He had no idea why that was, so he didn't think to much about it.

Right now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was awake. Why the fuck was he awake?  
Couldn’t the universe just be a brother and help him out by letting him sleep.  
Goddamn sun. So….bright.  
When did he even open the curtains last night? Oh yeah, he couldn’t remember shit from yesterday. Thankfully, the curtains were within arms reach, and so he easily closed them.  
He wasn’t really in a hurry to put his clothes on, so he rolled himself in the blankets and tried to escape from the horribly bright world.  
Hold the phone. In a hurry? Why would he be in a hurry?  
He was on ‘vacation’.  
He was relaxing and sorting out his thoughts.

God, now that he thought about it, he was such a deep human being. All of these thoughts were pretty life changing. Damn, he shouldn’t waste his time making videos for random people that can’t even play games themselves. He should have become a writer or something.

It was holy-shit-that’s-way-too-early-o-clock aka 5 AM. There was no dumbass behind the counter which was a big relief and the weather outside was still chilly, maybe waking up this early wasn’t so bad after all.  
He got out of the motel, walked the 200 meters to the gas station, and bought some food for the day. He was feeling very hungry, and so he hurried back to the hotel. The jackass was still not there, which somehow made him disappointed because he wanted to be angry at him.  
When he entered his bedroom, he threw himself on his bed and stared up into the celling.  
He then pulled out his phone he entered the number without as much as looking at it, placed it close to his ear and waited.

“Hello?”

It’s motherfucking pizza time.

The hours went by, the exact 15 hours went by and he found himself on the bed again. This time surrounded by half empty pizza boxes. Wait. Those were half-empty? Time to start eating again.

After finishing those off, he looked down at his stomach and frowned. He then started to loudly argue with his body.

“Why? Why do you get to relax so much? I have to deal with these dilemmas all the fucking time! I can never stop thinking!  
Why will I not stop thinking?!  
You, you have nothing to worry about. It’s so…unfair!!”

He continued to say things like that, for quite some time; he also began rambling about some stuff that didn’t have anything to do with his original argument. In total honesty, the whole thing with him being angry/happy at his fans thing was totally forgotten. He argued about stuff he had done a long, long time ago. What he should have done and what he shouldn’t have done.

His fans were just an excuse for him to hate himself even more than he originally did.

If you had been in the room with him, it would have looked like at any given moment he would have started punching himself from anger. He probably would have, if something didn’t catch his attention once more.

It was like the wall called for him, but this time, he didn't reach for his earphones. The silence seemed like music in this moment and the wall was so strangely perfect.

There was nothing on it, nothing against it. It was simply standing out, even though it was just a plain white. He noticed that the other three walls encasing him were not as white as this one. Well, maybe that was just his imagination.

3 days ago, he would have thought that he was crazy for thinking so much about a stupid wall, but right now, it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

He was looking at it with pure fascination and then he reached his arms out as if to hug it. He then realized what a stupid idea that was, and tried retreating them awkwardly is if the wall was a human that thought he was a freak.

It was weird.

It's quite interesting, wouldn't you say? Apart from a few things, we might acctually never know what sort of things the man was acctually seeing. Even I, being a all-knowing being, could not comprehend exactly how the world looked through his eyes. Yes, I pried myself of having known about every possible thought and feeling that even the man himself did not understand. But he was indeed queer, so it wouldn't surprise me if he saw the world in a completly different way then what we are accostumed to. I only mildly understood how the world most have looked through his eyes, sometimes, they might even have been guesses, but I tried my hardest to convey his being into words. However you most understand, that was quite the difficult task indeed. 

What did he see in that wall? that is something I have never understood, even today it still bothers me. 

In some way, I came to the conclusion that the man had the talent to give life to inamimate things. But I am sure that this could not have been all there was too it. The man was a puzzle, one that even I could never solve. 

Anyways, after the strange situation with the wall, the man was feeling embarrassed. So much that he went straight to bed and made a coccon out of the sheets to protect him from the burning gaze of the wall. He feel asleep feeling like a failure, just like he had done all the other days.  

He thought about how strange he had acted the other days, and felt ashamed. His eyes were starting to get wet, but he held back the tears. Too many had already been spilt for no apparent reason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be freaky, BEWARE!


	4. Nowhere boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm sorry it has taken me this long to make this piece of crap. But thanks to you (you know who you are) I acctually made another chapter. So, thanks a bunch, you're pretty awesome. 
> 
> When you're done reading this you will probably think: wtf did I just read. 
> 
> But that's okay, it's meant to be like that. You'll understand everything in the equally weird chapter there is to come (maybe the last one, who knows?)

Moaning and rolling around in the white sheets of the now sweat stinking bed seemed like the most interesting way to kill time this afternoon. 

For some unknown reason he was mad at ‘time’. He probably had a good reason earlier today, but now, it really didn’t matter. He just wanted ‘time’ to have a slow and painful death. It was clear that he was a man on a mission, focusing as hard as humanly possible on his task. 

Then he stopped.

He was now laying on his belly with his chin placed on his open palms, his eyebrows knotting themselves together, giving him an annoyed face expression. Why was he even annoyed? A dramatically loud sigh escaped his mouth. 

What was he doing? 

Why was he even here? 

….

….

Oh…

Oh, yeah… That’s right, his fans were mad at him. 

He had checked his laptop earlier today and noticed all the complaints from them.  
Honestly, they could all just go to hell.  
Why were they even bothering him so much?  
He actually pitied them; the more they bugged him the more it just showed him how they were completely low class, below him in every way. Pathetic. Why couldn’t they see that?  
But it didn’t matter, soon enough they would all just forget about him, become bored with his little game and move on to another entertainment source. Hm, he didn’t like that feeling. Of being forgotten… and left behind.  
He was just waiting for his subscriber’s number to decrease. To see if his mind was telling him the ugly truth. Where his fans really like that?

He wanted to know. 

And so, he continued his mighty quest to kill time. 

…

This method was proving to be very inefficient. 

Hmm, what to do?

What to do. 

He kept wondering what to do for a long, long time. Occasional moans of frustration would break the pale silence of the room.  
Suddenly everything was pitch black around him.

Had he fallen asleep? 

Hm, when did this happen? Oh well time to go get some food. 

When he rose from the bed, he felt overwhelmed with dizziness. He closed his eyes trying to ease the pain. He then noticed an intense pain in his stomach area. It hurt him greatly with his every move. Naturally he opened his eyes wanting to inspect to see what could possibly be wrong. When he did so, his eyes widened in horror when he spotted the kitchen knife burried in his torso. He started panicking and cold sweating. He could feel his blood, warn and sticky on the surface of his skin. He tried touching the knife and felt a pain he had never felt before.  
It was electric somehow. Spreading throughout the whole body.  
His head started making a painful sound. It was the same sound of when someone’s heart finally stopped beating on the monitor of the hospital screen, just extremely high pitched and loud. He couldn’t handle it, he was beating on his head, hurting himself to try and make it stop. But it wouldn’t.  
When he tried blocking his ears with his palms, he could feel blood. Blood was dripping, no; it was flowing out of his ears. He couldn’t understand were all of the blood was coming from. He started hyperventilating in fear as the blood continued to stream out of his ears. He closed his eyes with the hopes of escaping this freakish nightmare.

He didn’t want this. 

He didn’t want any of this. 

But he couldn’t make it stop. 

What had he ever done to deserve this punishment? 

He tried looking over his life, investigating what he could have done to make this happen. In the midst of his investigation he passed by a certain memory that made him smile. It was quite silly actually; it was when he had asked his dog out on a date. He was pretty young at that time, but his other friends had already gotten girlfriends and he felt lonely and left out. Therefore, he asked the only one who he knew would always be loyal to him. 

His dog.

He was remembering that by the end of the day the dog had gotten up on his feet and licked his mouth. The perfect ending to a date.  
That was when he noticed that all this time he had been thinking and smiling to himself, he had not been feeling any form of pain. He wasn’t certain if this was a trick, so he opened his eyes very slowly. 

He was taken aback by the overly white surroundings and squinted his eyes trying to adjust to the incredible whiteness. He tried looking around but there was nothing but a giant see of white. 

He was the only thing that wasn’t white.

He was out of place. Like always.

He was going nowhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I've got nothing to add.


	5. The end of the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people, this is the end of our very long week. It's a shitty title and I hate it, but I'm quite pleased with how the story turned out. Even though I'm the author, I was acctually surprised with how crazy our character turned out to be.  
> I will be happy if you enjoyed this, so please let me know what you think :]

The normal human would have questioned if this were reality or only a dream.  
But not this guy. He didn’t question anything about this absurd place.  
He was just pissed off.

He wouldn’t tell himself why.  
However, deep inside him, he knew that he was only pissed off at himself. Even though that was the case, those were one of the thoughts that he unknowingly blocked from his consciousness.  
The whiteness surrounding him was making him angry although _it_ was not the cause of his anger.  
How could he have done this to himself? His fans, his family, his friends… they had nothing to do with this. This was self-hatred eating him up from the inside and leaving him with a façade and nothing but organs doing their job on the inside.

But he couldn’t acknowledge that. He couldn’t do that. He just… couldn’t.

Therefore, he choose the easy path.  
He choose to blame the thing nearest.  
And the fact that he was surrounded by nothingness didn’t stop him.  
So he flipped out trying to punch what was around him.

In this moment he looked as crazy on the outside as he was on the inside; his beard was growing thick, he was dripping with sweat, he still had a terrible case of bed hair and he was in his pj’s trying to punch nothing.  
The recipe for a lunatic.  
That was when he finally hit something.

He stood still in surprise for the tinniest second before remembering his anger.  
It fired up inside of him and he felt like his insides were set aflame.  
He punched the whiteness with all his strength, but it was hard and it pained him a lot.

Now it wasn’t just his inside that were aflame, fire was crawling across his skin.  
  
He had now lost it for real.

It annoyed him so much that this ‘whiteness’ wasn’t taking any visual damage that he increased the power of his hits, completely ignoring his own pain. Fortunately, he didn’t need to do it for too long to see results.  
Yet, he was surprised once again; the whiteness was now bleeding.  
He thought that a crack would have appeared, because of it’s hardness.  
But no, it was bleeding. He couldn’t help but stop his crazy punching for a moment to stare at his work.

Then he gave a wicked smirk.

How fitting that this majestic whiteness surrounding him would bleed. This only proved that it was no better than he was. No, this in fact proved something.

That made him smile.

“Whatever bleeds, dies.”

Some movie had told him that.

But with that in mind he knew exactly what to do.  
To prove that this ‘whiteness’ was in fact inferior to him, he would kill it.  
Whatever bleeds dies, right? Therefore, he continued his punching. With this new motivation, he would strike the ‘whiteness’ even harder than before. Which would give him great results; more blood.

  
The sight of blood made him proud.  
It was proof.  
The kind of proof he had always needed.  
Proof that he was better than anyone else was.  
He always knew that this was a true; he could feel it.  
But there had never been any proof around.  
He would kill this.  
Even if it was the last thing, he did.  
He wanted to drain all of its blood and keep it as a trophy, show it to the whole world, prove them that they were in fact inferior to him. And he would do this. No matter what.  
He had the strength to do so.

He continued this act of madness until he couldn’t feel his hands.  
However, he wasn’t content with the amount of blood smeared on the ‘whiteness’.  
He wanted more.  
He started bashing his shoulder into it, thinking he was a tank.

He did this, repeatedly, never once stopping or checking on himself. But then something unexpected happened.

He could feel cold fragile hands coming from behind him to cover his eyes, making the red and white turn into blackness.

 

 

Blur.

When he opened his eyes, everything was blurry and grey.

The fan was circulating above of him and he was laying on the carpet staring at it.

Hm, so it was a dream.

Cool.

Well, of course it was a dream, it was just too crazy too be reality.

Quite the vivid dream, now that he thought about it.

He was feeling quite hungry for some reason, so he tried rising himself from the floor but was overwhelmed with a dizziness and headache out of this world.  
He naturally closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose trying to ease the pain.

When he looked in front of him he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He started crying desperately.  
There were far too many feelings washing over him, he couldn’t control himself any longer.

The white wall in front of him was covered in blood.

And not just any blood, _his_ blood.

 _He_ was covered in blood and bruises.

The only explanation available was the one that he feared the most.

But it was the truth.

 

He had done this.

He had done this to _himself_.

And not only the dislocated shoulder and bloody mushy hands. But everything.  
It was him.  
The wall in front of him was proof of this.  
He drove himself to this point.  
No one else.  
He was the crazy guy who managed to destroy his own body trying to hurt a wall.

He started panicking, hyperventilating and cold sweating.

Too many feelings, too many thoughts.

It was all too much.

IT WAS TOO MUCH!!

It was as if the mist that protected him from himself was finnally seeping out of his brain and out of his ears. It hurt, not only in a physical way, but also in a way that cannot be described with words, it could only be felt. The man had never faced his problems head on, but rather chosen the most convenient path for his own egos sake. Being within the presence of the white wall had somehow staedily eaten away at his protective blanket. He was left naked, with no other choice but to look at himself, however ugly and corrupted he might have looked.

Had it only taken him a week to become this mad? Was this all it took? A couple of annoyed fans and an already fucked up mind.  
Was that really it?

He hated himself.

He couldn’t stand the sight of his own body.  
He wanted to disappear.  
Start over again.  
But most of all he just wanted to stop thinking.

His mind was his torturer.  
He was being tortured by himself.

This was all too pathetic; he was too pathetic.  
And he would not be the pathetic guy.

 

Therefore, once again, he took the easy path. Just as he had always done.  
This time it was the easiest of them all: Death.  
It was convinient to him, really. Death would be the only place where he would not be bugged with his own pestering thoughts, and so, to him, it seemed like paradise.

But let me tell you, this was not a graceful death.   
Before deciding on dying he was already in pretty bad shape, his shoulder was dislocated, he had blue marks all over his body and his hands…  
They were incredibly disgusting. They were swollen to the point where they looked like mushy red balloons.  
The sight of him would make anyone vomit.  
And his sudden choice of death gave him few available options.

It was the white wall he choose, well, I guess it wasn’t very white anymore.  
This wall had given him comfort when he first arrived; he had found peace in its calm paleness.  
And it was this wall that would lead him to his ultimate peace.

However, he choose an incredibly gruesome death.   
He bashed his head into the wall until; he quite literally, painted the wall with his brains.

Yeah, I know. Pretty fucked up right? 

I didn't even kow people could do that!

But hey, have you ever stopped to notice how laughable his life had been? How incredible ironic his death was? He wanted to end his life because he felt pathetic and disgusted that he was able to drive himself to point of intense madness. But don’t you think that being able to kill yourself solely because of your self-hatred is pretty pathetic?  
I think so too!  
I mean, I was laughing when he was bashing his head into the wall.  
He was contradicting his whole life by doing that.  
And what a coward.  
When he finally realized everything he chose the cowards path. Not wanting to live with himself? And he thought he was better than all of us!  
He was no better than a slimy worm.

This guy was fucked up from the beginning. He was just waiting for the day were his mind would collapse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, he was pretty crazy... And so was the narrator. That was unexpected...
> 
> But I hope that after reading this you realize that this character could have been anyone that was slightly famous. This has little to do with Cryaotic, I merely borrowed his identity for you to have a better picture of his circumstances. 
> 
> Please let me know if there is something you don't understand. I tend to not write very clearly, so my readers do not acctually get what I'm trying to say.
> 
> Thanks for reading this far.   
> Maybe I'll see you again..?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot for reading this far!  
> If you have any comments, then... you should comment :P


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